


Terror of Unsuspecting Doctors

by Luthienberen



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: Watson is staying with a friend in the week leading up to Christmas. In his absence he arranges for Holmes to have the help of his fellow friends and doctors. A series of correspondence indicates this arrangement doesn't quite work out as planned…
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14
Collections: Untold Tales from Doctor Watson’s Journals, Watson's Woes WAdvent 2019





	Terror of Unsuspecting Doctors

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 20 of [watsons_woes Advent](https://watsons-woes.dreamwidth.org/). I'm trying something a little different, regaling the story with various forms of communication such as telegrams and letters. Apologies if it is a little rough, still learning!

A cold and frosty festive period heralded Christmas this year. London lay under a thin white layer of frost each morning and each day I fretted the coming of the all-encompassing fog.

My dear Watson had abandoned me for the clear air of Wales, invited to stay with a colleague he had recently met. As much as Watson's absence pained me (more than I care to admit openly) the good doctor needed the break from the dreary smog of London.

The case of the Ripper - over a year ago now - had shaken him, and the memories of his close encounter had haunted him as September rolled into October and fell into November. Therefore, I knew a time away from the city would benefit my friend.

Alas, without my Boswell I am adrift. 

Glaring out about our sitting room will hardly conjure Watson but...by jove! 

In an instant I had seized the folded paper on Watson's writing desk and read with glee its contents.

My dear doctor had provided the names and addresses of his friends and the times they were available.

Excellent - who knows when I may need the services of a surgeon?

☆☆☆

_Urgent message to Dr Watson, delivered c/o of Dr Edwards of Cardiff, Wales, Hart Surgery_

My dear Watson,

Mr Holmes is a madman. I accompanied him on a case as requested on the premises of grave-digging & occult matters. Transpired to actually be Zombies. The crazy Englishman fought them. 

As I was there I joined in to stop your detective from doing anything foolish, which I rapidly discovered was rather difficult, nay impossible!

One unconscious sorcerer later (chloroform and a ranting maniac not paying attention are a match similar to vodka and śledzie: heaven), I turned to discover a bleeding and all too innocently satisfied detective.

I recalled your warnings on the matter and was about to examine my Englishman companion when some strange men appeared. Mr Holmes clearly knew them and muttered something about a brother? Watson, does your friend truly have a brother? Heaven spare us!

Eventually we were able to depart for my home and practice. Naturally, once home I had to create a cure for zombification.

However, after a frantic night, a visit to my Orthodox church and an all too close inspection of two confiscated occult volumes Mr Holmes is once more human and currently sleeping on my couch. 

Fortunately it is Darling's turn next. How do you manage?

Dr Kazimir Kotov

☆☆☆

_Telegram to Dr Watson, delivered ℅ of Dr Edwards of Cardiff, Wales, Hart Surgery_

WRAITHS. STOP. Called by Holmes to assist a Scottish widow. STOP. Nearly had life drained from me. STOP. Mr Holmes saved me. STOP. Then had to save him. STOP. He had to taunt them. STOP. For distraction. STOP. Wraiths vanquished. STOP. By Blessed Holly Bush branches. STOP. Widow Free. STOP. I NEED A DRINK. STOP. Regards Darling STOP

_Next day._

_Telegram to Dr Watson, delivered ℅ of Dr Edwards of Cardiff, Wales, Hart Surgery_

Had too much to drink. STOP. Dreamt of Wraiths. STOP. Prevented Mr Holmes from investigating further. STOP. Confiscated materials with me until your return. STOP. COME SOON. STOP. Regards Darling

☆☆☆

_Short letter to Doctor Watson, from Dr Wojcik, delivered ℅ of Dr Edwards of Cardiff, Wales, Hart Surgery_

Dear John,

I pray that you are well and that the change of scenery has dispelled the fogs of that cruel and chilling encounter we shared last year.

This is a brief correspondence to simply inform you that Mr Holmes is in good health - how I am uncertain, unless Divine intervention has interceded. My reason for such an extraordinary statement is as follows. 

One evening, after a long week in my practice and offering my services in the London Hospital, I sat down with tea and Szarlotka to consult the brief paper you had kindly drawn together for us on the care of one Mr Sherlock Holmes. It frankly made for rather alarming reading.

How could one man become embroiled in such mischief yet emerge triumphant? Genius and a dash of fortune (though I know Mr Holmes would sniff at my remark on "luck").

Even so, my timing was fortuitous for Mr Holmes arrived at my home in a highly agitated state. As a doctor I deemed this unsuitable considering the past few days had been filled with zombies, being _cured_ of transforming into a zombie and suffering an attack by wraiths and subsequent tending of injuries by Darling.

Thus, with great trepidation I listened to Mr Holmes and thanking the Lord that my family were out, preceded to gather the necessary equipment to battle a upiór.

Yes, the upiórs, or the _vampire_ as you English call this blood drinking demon creature. Dragging along my local priest was...interesting. Father Stefan was very useful in the battle that unfolded.

Mr Holmes utilised his wits to gain entrance to the dilapidated house in one of Whitechapel's many run-down abodes. Dank walls and a rotting floor welcomed us. The rank stench of blood and decaying corpses assailed my senses but ah! The sight we came upon I shall not pen.

It was grotesque and fitting for a demon.

Those poor people. The creature itself was bloated with its feasting and sluggish to defend. Even so, we barely held our own until at last Father Stefan had the upiór pinned, brandishing his Holy weapons while Mr Holmes brought an end to the demon. 

I am happy to say that at the final moment of destruction peace spread over the face of the upiór. May their soul finally be free.

Then began our work of cleaning the place. Father Stefan focused on sanctifying the grounds and blessing the remains of those who were drained by the vampire. Mr Holmes retrieved important documentation while I ensured the upiór would never rise again.

Foul business!

We were all grateful to leave that house and I was eager for another reason: to disinfect the wound on Mr Holmes' arm after he opened a rickety glass cabinet with too much enthusiasm - lost in the excitement of discovering a blood-letting kit.

Rest easy my friend John. Mr Holmes came through the minor surgery well and is currently in drugged bliss in my brother's bed. He will be facing hot soup tomorrow whether he cares for it or not. Only then may he depart.

I understand your fascination with the man and why he is an excellent friend. However, suffice it to say that if he turns up on my doorstep again in the next day or two for anything beyond care of his injuries, I shall not be stirring and will put my foot down.

Yours,

Dr Aleksander Wójcik

☆☆☆

_Telegram to Dr Watson, delivered ℅ of Dr Edwards of Cardiff, Wales, Hart Surgery_

Watson, your friends are peculiar. STOP. Visited Dr Wójcik Christmas Eve. STOP. Man went pale. STOP. Refused to accompany me. STOP. Thought he was ill so came inside. STOP. Was trapped. STOP. Family Invited me to Supper. STOP. Remembered your instructions. STOP. Stayed and was too full to move. STOP. SEND HELP. STOP. Sherlock Holmes

☆☆☆

In a comfortably warm home, by a roaring fire on Christmas Day Doctor Watson finished reading his pile of correspondence with some amusement and growing dread. Looked like his holiday was over.

“Edwards! When is the next train to London?”

**Author's Note:**

> * “Szarlotka” is Polish apple pie, one of my favourite Polish cakes. Light and sweet and perfect. I always sweet apples, but you can try tangy ones if you wish:  
> https://www.polonist.com/szarlotka-polish-apple-pie/
> 
> * Śledzie (“herrings in oil”, though it can be with cream as well – there are numerous receipes about!):  
> https://www.polishyourkitchen.com/polishrecipes/herring-in-oil-sledz-w-oleju/


End file.
